SHE SAID "NO" TO HIS PROPOSAL

One Step Forward

Luna's POV

It had been three weeks since that night in Greg's car. Since then, he'd gone out of his way to avoid me. I became invisible to him—just another faceless employee he passed without a word or a glance. It was awkward, yes, but I did my best to shove the discomfort aside, drowning myself in work and school. Each day felt like a blur, blending into the next in a monotony of routine. After work, I'd head straight to my evening classes, then go home to study. With finals approaching, I needed to keep my focus steady, so any distractions—even him—had to be pushed out of my mind.

Tonight, though, was different. I didn't have class, but the thought of going home and lying awake, haunted by all the "what-ifs" and "what-nots," felt unbearable. So I decided to stay late and finish up a report that was due soon. The office was quiet, the usual buzz of voices and footsteps reduced to a rare murmur here and there. Most of my colleagues had gone home; Jared had left early to pick up a relative from the airport, and Jim from accounting passed by with a quick wave.

"Still working on something?" he asked, his voice light as he adjusted his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, just wrapping this up," I replied with a forced smile. He nodded sympathetically before heading out, leaving me alone in the silent hum of the office.

By 8 p.m., my concentration began to crack. My mind, stubborn and restless, kept circling back to Greg. To the brief moment in his car—the tension that had snapped between us. And to the cold wall he'd put up ever since. I knew I needed to stay focused, to finish this project and move on, but each thought seemed to drag me back to him. I glanced at his office door, he'd had an important meeting earlier, so he must have gone home by now.

I tried to shake off the heaviness in my chest, but it clung to me, a weight that felt too thick to breathe through. I needed a break, maybe a coffee or something to clear my head. So I stood up, stretching the knots from my shoulders, and made my way to the pantry. The quiet echo of my footsteps felt amplified in the empty office as I tapped my badge against the pantry door and stepped inside. The lights were dimmed, casting the room in a soft, muted glow. The stillness here was almost comforting. I walked to the cabinet, reaching for my usual brand of coffee, and busied myself with the ritual of filling a cup, trying to steady the rush of thoughts spiraling in my mind.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the pantry door opening until it hit my arm. My grip faltered, and in an instant, hot coffee spilled across my chest, the sudden warmth searing against my skin. I looked up, startled, and there he was—Greg, standing in the doorway, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"I didn't know you were in here. I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and apologetic. Before I could respond, he stepped forward, reaching for a towel, and began dabbing at the stain on my shirt, his movements both hurried and tentative. I could feel my heart racing, the warmth of his hand close to my skin, and the awkward tension between us all too present.

"It's okay," I managed to murmur, trying to keep my tone steady even though the coffee's sting made me wince. The fabric of my shirt was damp, clinging to my skin, and I instinctively began to unbutton it, revealing the reddened patch on my chest.

Greg's eyes flickered with concern, his gaze lingering a moment longer than I expected before he cleared his throat. "I have an extra shirt in my car if you want to wear it," he offered softly, his tone careful, almost hesitant, as if he was walking a line he wasn't sure he should cross.

"No, it's okay. I'm about to head home anyway." I shook my head, trying to appear unaffected, to keep my cool.

But his brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. "Don't be stubborn. I can't let you go home like this." There was a hint of irritation simmering beneath his words, though his expression was laced with genuine concern. His eyes softened briefly, before he continued in a tone that left no room for argument. "Pick up your things. I'm driving you home."